Damian sat on the edge of his bed, hunched over, a cigarette between his fingers. The tip burned red, smoke curling lazily toward the ceiling. But his mind wasn’t calm. His muscles were tight. His jaw clenched.
The room was silent, too silent for a house that once held Elena’s laughter.
He closed his eyes.
“I feel like someone’s always watching us,” she had said days ago, her voice soft, eyes flicking to the side like she sensed something. “There’s a spy. Somewhere.”
He hadn’t listened closely then. Thought it was just paranoia. Maybe nerves.
Now she was gone.
And the silence screamed.
He stood up abruptly, the cigarette dropping to the ashtray. A low curse slipped through his teeth. He crossed the room, yanked open the drawer in his desk, and grabbed the small remote connected to t
